


Tramonto

by Makemegray



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-04
Updated: 2009-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:24:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makemegray/pseuds/Makemegray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>KHRfest submission for October 5, 2009. Prompt was Dino/Hibari - <em>sunset; "the sea in your eyes"</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Tramonto

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

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[character: dino cavallone](http://filthypages.livejournal.com/tag/character%3A%20dino%20cavallone), [character: hibari kyouya](http://filthypages.livejournal.com/tag/character%3A%20hibari%20kyouya), [d18](http://filthypages.livejournal.com/tag/d18), [pairing: dino/hibari](http://filthypages.livejournal.com/tag/pairing%3A%20dino%2Fhibari), [second person](http://filthypages.livejournal.com/tag/second%20person), [series:khr](http://filthypages.livejournal.com/tag/series%3Akhr)  
  
  
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He's sitting on the roof when you go and visit him.

Honestly, you're not altogether sure why you're here in the first place.

You had some excuse made up in your mind on the way over, something about making him take care of dry cleaning his blood out of your clothes...but you can't really remember right now.

Because looking at him like that, in that fucking stupid wheelchair on the roof of that hospital with the sun setting and making that ridiculous blond hair of his look like a halo...

If you were more of an herbivore, you would admit that....maybe...just maybe you had been a little terrified before you slaughtered that Millefiori bastard.

You've never experienced that word before 'Terrified', not from this side of things. Usually, you were on the opposite side, doling out the punishment and reveling in that look that people got, dialated pupils, slack jaw, that little tremble....

You refused to show it on your face or in your actions as you slid your tonfa out of your sleeves, but it was all you could think about. Getting there in time.

You won't admit it, but until it had looked like he was about to loose, you weren't going to get involved. You were going to turn around and walk away, were going to check on your school, but because that fool insisted on fighting and lost...like an herbivore, you'd had to change your plans.

And now, standing here on the roof at sunset, watching as he slept or daydreamed or whatever the hell it was he was doing, you weren't sure whether you wanted to walk over and inspect his wounds yourself, make sure he was okay...or whether you wanted to tip that fucking chair over and bash his head in.

You step closer and even though you didn't have too--he'd known you were there the whole time of course-- you make your presence know, step a little harder, make your heels click on the ground.

Regardless whatever privacy he'd been trying to give you as you stood there invading his, he opened his eyes at you, smiled wanley and you remembered that this Cavallone was ten years older than yours. Middle-aged, if those creases around his eyes are any judge.

He's older, wiser, stronger, just a little bit less of a moron...

But in essence...in reality...he's still your Cavallone.

"Kyouya...hey..." He says, and it's obvious that he's amused, no matter how much pain he's in. The urge to kick him out of the wheelchair rises. "Haha...I didn't think I'd see you here..." He holds his hand out and you stare at it as you walk closer. It's uncanny how much you want to reach out, take and grasp it just to ensure yourself that he's solid, whole that this isn't some ghostly apparition in front of you.

He chuckles and before you realize it, you've taken his hand and he's leading you closer. And that urge rises.

Because around him, you loose control of yourself. That control that you've spent the last 17 years building, the last 17 years ensuring that there was nothing that was going to override your willpower or ever make you feel weak...ensuring that no one dared, because you were Hibari _fucking_ Kyouya and Namimori was yours.

Until he showed up, all smirks and grins and Italian fucking confidence that for some reason, no matter how many tonfa strikes could damper....He showed up and little by little, that control started to slip away around him. He can make your body do whatever he wants, when he wants, can make you feel weak and the most powerful fucking person on the face of the planet in equal amounts and somehow....you're not sure if you mind giving that to him...Not when he lets you have the same of him.

"You're an idiot, Cavallone." You sigh and he chuckles again. This thready, painful thing that may just make your heart clench a little in your chest. If you're being completely honest with yourself...maybe...

"Haha...I know...That was pretty stupid wasn't it? I should have known not to underestimate the Wreaths...It was your task, after all...you have the ring and the box...the people of this era just can't compare." He reaches up to ruffle your hair and you can see that he strains so you automatically bend down to accomodate him, in silent horror that you're doing so in the first place. "That's my Kyouya, always ready to avenge me~♥"

You slap his hand away, almost regret it when you think he's going to start pouting about it, but instead he tightens his grip on your arm, tugs you down into his lap and starts fucking _cuddling_. If he weren't a fucking invalid you would have murdered him on the spot. Period.

"Hey Kyouya...were you scared? I was..." You growl out a negative and start reconsidering the invalid classification until he draws a shuddering breath, clutches you just a little bit tighter and buries his face in your hair.

He mumbles something, 'Grazie' it sounds like and for just one minute, your resolve to hate him for what he's done to you wavers when he starts shaking, silent tears racking his body as he clings to you, as it it's you who was in mortal danger or you who had that 14 hour operation to repair the fucking fist sized whole in your body. Like it's him who needs to be reassured that you're alive.

You do the only thing you can think of to make him stop ~~to help~~ and plunge a hand into that blond hair and drag his head back, ignoring the wince of pain before you crush your lips to his. A solid impact that dives a whimper from him with the force, but that's alright. It's your insurance. That yeah, you're okay, stupid Cavallone and that it's not you who he should be worried about.

He slides his arms around you and tugs you closer, turning the kiss into something slow, gentle, maddening and thats him telling you that it doesn't matter that he was injured. You're the important one and the fact that you're okay is some sort of miracle to him.

Dumbass herbivore.

Who thinks like that when earlier this week they had to literally hold their insides from falling out of their body?

When you tell him that he laughs, nuzzling your neck, laying hot kisses here and there and dammit if that isn't the most maddening fucking thing, when you can feel him getting exited underneath you the same way you can feel the bandages around his torso.

"Because you're most important to me than my own life, Kyouya..." He whispers against your neck, before you place your hand over his mouth to keep him from saying anymore retarded shit.

"Don't be stupid, Cavallone." He's grinning against your hand now and you're sure that if you were actually looking into his eyes instead of avoiding them, you would be able to see them shining,golden eyes reflecting the sea behind you with that deep blue-green, standing out like a beacon in his pale face.

So you don't look. Look anywhere but. Because if you don't, you might give in and might be tempted to share some equally disgusting sentiment.

Might be tempted to tell him how it felt like your heart was stopping every time his did when he was on the operating table. How you couldn't even be in the observatory without feeling that the walls were going to come crashing down on you with every ounce of blood he lost. How you'd distracted yourself by hunting down every single Millefiori left in Namimori that the other Vongola hadn't taken care of and you'd mutilated them, sent them back to Italy in boxes with the disciplinary committee logo stamped on them. A message. To Byakuran and to anyone else who might think they would live long after crossing you.

You don't say any of that. Because even if you're aware of it, aware that you feel...something for this fucking Italian, admitting it out loud is an entirely different story. It's admitting defeat. Admitting that he has power over you and that without him, you just might be a little lost.

You don't say it, his grin would be insufferable and you'd never live it down...

You have a feeling he knows though...

When you take your hand away from his mouth, finally look back at him, he's smirking. That damned crooked thing he does that makes your knees melt out from under you with the promise it holds, the promise of what he can do to you and how he can make you feel.

So you smack him, enjoy his yelp. Not hard, just enough to sting and he gets the point.

That even if you maybe, sort of had some sort of fuzzy feelings for him, even ten years later, he was still a goddamn herbivore and he'd do well to know his place.

 _  
**KHRfest Submission: October 5, 2009**   
_


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